Eye To Eye
by Kari Kurofai
Summary: A Teen Choices class. A robotic baby that needs taking care of in order to earn a passing grade. Sam and Freddie. What could possibly go wrong? Seddie Sam/Freddie.


**Eye To Eye**

Spencer always knew when Carly was coming home. He could hear it as soon as the elevator stopped on the eighth floor of Bushwell Plaza, the yelling and the whining and the hissed retorts that echoed off the walls in the apartment complex. Recently they had died down to a minimum, and he'd been caught off guard by his sister and her friends arriving more than once in the past few weeks, the world unusually calm with their entrance, which was just a little unusual.

But today, _today_, it was loud as he remembered it being three years ago, the insults flying off the walls and clear to his ears, accompanied by Carly's resigned sigh as they came through the door. "We're home," she grumbled, tossing her backpack on the couch.

Her brother raised an eyebrow, not questioning the _"we"_ in that statement. It was true, after all, those kids were here more than their own houses. "I can hear that," he smirked, watching as Sam and Freddie trudged in just behind her, deep in a heated debate, he didn't really bother to tune in to the exact words, he could imagine what they were without causing his eardrums more pain than they were already in. His gaze roamed over the pair as Carly made her way to the fridge, taking in the furrowed brows and the clenched fists. Well, clenched fists on Sam's part, Freddie's hands were kinda full with-

"Umm . . . What's that?" Spencer asked warily, edging towards them despite his fear of eminent death should he get mixed up in this.

Freddie looked up, holding a hand in front of Sam's face to signal silence. She bit it. "Hey! That hurt!" he took a half step back, turning his attention to Spencer, "What's what?"

"That," Spencer pointed down at the thing in Freddie's other hand. The teen's fingers were clasped tight around a handle that looped down over a shade, pulled up to conceal whatever was tucked away neatly in what could only be a baby carrier. "Please tell me Sam didn't steal a child."

Sam glared at him, and he swallowed. "No, you idiot. I didn't steal a kid, what do you take me for?" She paused as everyone's eyes flickered to her, "Okay, yeah," she admitted, "But a kid? Not my style."

"It's for our Teen Choices class," Freddie muttered.

Spencer crouched down in front of the carrier, peering into it, "Oh yeah! I remember that class! We had to take care of flour babies!" His hands twitched and he reached inside, picking up the thing, "But . . . This isn't a flour baby."

"It's one of those fancy robotic babies," Carly cut in, making Spencer jump and nearly drop the fake child. "The have all these sensors in them so that the teachers know you're treating it right, it can cry and everything." She shrugged, waving a hand as if it wasn't important. "We have to take care of them in pairs for a week."

"Ah, I see . . ." Spencer narrowed his eyes at the baby in his hands, staring into it's creepy doll eyes. Robots, and dolls, had always given him the willies. "So, Freddie and Sam-" he began, realizing the source of today's argument from hell.

"Have to take care of that one together," Carly confirmed.

"So now I'm stuck with _two_ immature things to look after," Freddie huffed.

Sam lunged for him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, "I'm not immature, nub! And I don't need taking care of! I'll show you who's-" Her sentence was suddenly stalled as Carly stepped forward, shoving a meatball in her mouth before she could start another word.

Spencer blinked. So that's what the trip to the fridge was for. Smart girl. The blond chewed, her grip on Freddie's collar loosening and falling away after a moment. Carly smiled, passing a plastic baggie stuffed with meatballs to Freddie, "Here, you might need these."

"I love you," Freddie grinned, taking them from her with a relieved breath.

Sam's face immediately darkened again, and she folded her arms over her chest and stared at the ceiling for a long moment before she gritted her teeth and turned her gaze to Freddie again, "Meatballs aren't going to change the fact that I'm _not_ doing this project, Freddork."

Freddie scowled, Carly taking a hurried step back as though afraid for her life. Spencer, understanding the action all too well, did the same. "Yes. You are. If you don't participate, _I_ fail too!"

The blond raised a hand to her face, pointing at herself with a single finger, "And do you see this? This is the face of '_I really don't care_.' Get used to it Fredward." Spencer was glad he was still hanging onto the robot baby when Sam chose to aim a kick at the carrier in Freddie's hand, making it fall and hit the hardwood with a bang.

"Do you want to graduate?" Freddie asked calmly, casting a glance at the carrier on the floor before turning brown eyes back to her.

"Yeah, of course I-"

"Then you have to pass this class. And in order to pass the class, you have to complete this assignment. It's _required_," he crossed his arms, looking pleased with his logic.

"Or we could do nothing and say we did," Sam countered.

"The sensors in the baby would know if we did that," Freddie deadpanned, "It needs all the regular feedings and changing," Sam made a face, "And attention that a normal baby does."

"But I don't wanna-"

"Too bad," Freddie interrupted. "You want to graduate, you do the baby project. Everyone knows that, so just stop whining and suck it up. It's not like I wanted to be paired with you either."

Spencer raised an eyebrow as the air suddenly shifted, Sam's shoulders tensing, "Yeah, well Carly's in the second group, they're not getting robo-babies till next week!"

Freddie narrowed his eyes, "I didn't say I wanted to be paired with Carly, I said I didn't want to be paired with _you_. Anyone would've been better than you with the way this is going!"

It was at this point that the baby in Spencer's hands started crying, the sound oddly realistic despite the circumstances, and he passed it Carly wordlessly. Too creepy. Freddie's attention immediately snapped to them, and he turned away from Sam, snatching the baby away from Carly and tucking it against his chest, rocking it. "Sam, get the bottle thing out of my backpack, would you?"

Silence. Sam kept her eyes trained on the ground, not moving from where she stood. "Sam!" Freddie snapped.

"I heard you," she hissed, stomping to the bag he'd left near the carrier on the floor, rummaging through it until she held a small plastic bottle in her hand. Slowly, she approached Freddie, holding the item in front of her as though it was a bomb about to go off. Freddie took it wordlessly, popping it in the doll's mouth and silencing it's wailing instantly.

"Much better," the techie murmured, "Now see, that wasn't so hard."

"It wasn't super fun either," Sam snorted. Freddie popped a meatball in her mouth before she could start the argument again.

Carly rolled her eyes from where she was standing beside her brother, "Well now that that's solved, Sam, you should probably go pack."

"Pack what," Sam blinked.

"Stuff for a week long sleepover," Carly said bluntly, pointing to the floor to indicate that such a thing would be taking place there, "here. You're place is too far away to complete the assignment properly. You can stay here so you're only right across the hall from Freddie should he need your help, or vise versa."

"Good idea," Freddie chimed in.

Sam whirled on him, "No inputs from the nub section. None." Gaze resting on Carly again she said resignedly, "Yeah, that's okay I suppose. My mom has this new French boyfriend, so it's not like she'll notice I'm gone anyways." She made her way to the door, sending one last glare at Freddie over her shoulder before she left, "Brb amigos!"

"You shouldn't say brb out loud, it sounds lame," Freddie smirked as she left.

"You're lame!" the door slammed and Spencer flinched, half expecting it to fall of it's hinges. It's not like that had never happened before.

Carly sighed, long and frustrated before she plopped down on the couch. She watched as Freddie continued to stand, bouncing slightly on his heels and continuing to rock the doll as fed from the plastic bottle. "You sure you're okay with this?" she asked.

Freddie stared at her, uncomprehending, "Okay with what? With the project? Carly, it's just Sam. I can handle her."

Both Shay sibling's paused at this, and Carly smiled, "You've really grown up, haven't you."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing," she laughed, "It's just that three years ago, you would have flipped a lid if Sam was made your partner. You would have tried to have it changed and then you would have probably made your mom change it for you if that didn't work."

Freddie frowned, "Hey, don't assume I'd turn to my mom for help. I'm a man, I can deal with it myself." She raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes, "Yeah, okay, I get it. But what's your point?"

"You don't hate Sam anymore," Carly grinned, as though it was obvious.

_"__Hey . . . I hate you."_

"_I hate you too."_

"I haven't for a long time," Freddie said, confused, "I said that at her birthday last year, remember? I think we're really good friends." His eyebrows furrowed as she merely continued to smile, "What exactly are you getting at?"

Carly shrugged, "Nothing really. Have fun." She laughed as he made a face at the very suggestion.

Spencer snickered as she shoved him into the kitchen, leaving Freddie to his own devices. "Nice try kiddo, but he's not going to tune into reality that easily."

"One of these days, I'm sure," Carly vowed softly, "Even if I have to lock them in a room together."

"You'll get two dead bodies that way," her brother whispered, "Believe me. I've been observing the progress on this front since day one." He paused, putting a finger to his lips worriedly, "I just hope they don't kill the robo-baby."

"Me too," Carly sighed. "I don't wanna graduate by myself."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Freddie took the first shift, promising that he'd hold on to the doll until after school the next day. Sam was mildly pleased when he didn't bother her once about her helping out, especially during the night when she heard the thing crying even from all the way up in Carly's room across the hall. The techie carried it around to all his classes in the slightly dinged up carrier (courtesy of Sam's foot), even fed it during lunch and twice in math without asking for Sam's assistance in the slightest.

However, after school was another matter entirely.

"It's my turn, right? Just hand it over," Sam made a grabby motion for the baby in Freddie's arms, and he took a step back.

"I can't just '_hand it over_,'" Freddie said steadily, "Do you even know how to hold a baby properly?"

"Yes, give," Sam said, taking the thing from her partner.

Instantly Freddie made a horrified sound, "You have to support her head!"

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Her?" She sidestepped as Freddie made as if to take the doll back. "Oh god, don't tell me you've named it too."

Freddie paused, hand still extended towards the robo-baby, "Umm . . . Jeanette?"

The blond stared at him, "Fine. As long as you didn't name it Carly I really don't care."

"What's wrong with the name Carly?" Carly spoke up from where she was leaning against the countertop not far away.

"Nothing," Sam smirked, "I just think I would be weird if he named his kid that."

Carly turned her eyes towards the ceiling in consideration, "Yeah . . . Just a little."

Freddie took Sam's distraction as a chance to grab her, adjusting her hold on the doll, "You have to support it's head, like this," he moved her hand so that it was cradling the baby's neck and head, "and other hand should come around it's back and bottom like this," he moved said hand until he was satisfied. "There."

"Stop touching me." Freddie's hands dropped to his sides instantly. "But thanks. Now you can leave, I've got baby duty covered."

"But-"

"I'm watching her," Carly smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah, but what if-"

Sam freed one hand and tucked the doll against her chest, flicking Freddie on the forehead, "You wanted me to do the project so I'm doing it. You can trust me with the thing for one day, Fredamame."

"It's a _girl_," Freddie protested.

"It's a doll. Now leave. Your ugly face is going to make the baby cry, just like with your cousin."

Freddie squared his shoulders and glared at her, "Fine. But," he turned his gaze to Carly, "If it starts to get to be too much to handle or she needs help, come get me. Cause I _know_ Sam's too stubborn to do it herself." Sam's icy glare hit him spot on, and he backed out of the apartment in a hurry.

"Will do!" Carly yelled after him as the door closed. Sam shot her an equally deadly glare but she just met it straight on. "And you, quit being so mean to him. He's just trying to be helpful."

Sam made a face that portrayed obvious disgust, "Exactly. Which is why it's annoying. I don't need his help. Never have." She kept her face set in a determined expression, eyes narrowed challengingly, daring Carly to call her lie.

"_Tell me one reason why I should believe you."_

"_Cause I came here. Have I ever come to you for help before? For anything?"_

Carly said nothing, shrugging in response, "All right, have fun with the baby then, I'm going to go study, we still have that test in Ms. Briggs's class tomorrow. Which I know _you_ won't study for at all."

"No chizz," Sam huffed.

Freddie paced in his apartment, arms folded across his chest, his shoulders hunched. It made him uneasy that it was already eight o'clock and neither Carly or Sam had called for his help yet. He could picture it now, Sam doing something that made the robot baby explode or short out, and burying it's remains in the empty lot down the road. He shuddered.

Maybe he should just go over there and make sure everything was all right. But then again, Carly had said she'd come get him if anything went wrong, he trusted her.

And he trusted Sam too . . . Sorta. He trusted she wouldn't _intentionally_ screw this project up. However, accidents were another matter. And around Sam, a lot of "accidents" tended to occur.

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, telling himself that everything was going to be okay and that Sam was doing just fine taking care of the doll for twenty four hours.

Ah, the lies he told himself to get through the day. He paced to the door and put his hand on the knob, ready to go across the hall just to check and make sure he was in fact, hysterical for no reason. Except that before he could turn it, the door burst in on him, smacking him in the face and making him fall flat on his butt.

"Oww . . ." Freddie covered his nose with his hands, wincing and knowing it was only through repeated incidents such as this that spared it from being broken in the here and now. Blinking, he looked up to see Carly standing over him, dark hair mussed and eyes desperate. He paled, "Oh chizz wha-"

Carly grabbed him by the arm, hauling him up from the ground, "Sam's going to _kill _the doll! Come on!"

Of course. It was only a matter of time. And in fact, Freddie could hear their project wailing as soon as he set foot in the Shay's apartment, already halfway up the stairs towards the studio with Carly hot on his heels. He stumbled as he pushed the door open, pausing for only half a step as he came face to face with Sam, baby lifted over her head ready to throw at the door that was now open.

"Sam no!" he yelled, jumping to grab it away from her, securing it between his arm and his chest before he caught her by the shoulder. "Jesus . . . What did you think you were doing!"

The blond stared at him with murderous eyes, face red and shoulders shaking with rage, "I was going to smash it. Now give it back so I can do so!"

Freddie made sure to hold her at arms length, away from the doll that was still crying in his other arm, "No. You _can not_ hurt this doll in any way, Sam. At all. You have to treat her like a real baby, all right?" He frowned as she just stared back at him, uncomprehending, and he squeezed her shoulder, "You wouldn't smash a real baby, would you?"

"No, of course not," Sam replied slowly, as though the idea itself was ridiculous.

"Exactly. So for one week can you just pretend, _pretend_, that this is a real baby? Please?"

Sam frowned, but her stance shifted, her shoulders slumping, "Okay. I guess that makes sense." She looked down at the floor between them, "Can I . . . Can I try again? I promise I won't kill it."

The dark haired teen raised an eyebrow, "Sure. But . . ." He drew the silence out, making sure he had her attention, "I'm going to hang around and make sure it doesn't happen again, at least for a little while." Slowly he passed her the doll, still wailing loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

"Kay," across the room Carly was surprised to hear the tinge of guilt in her friend's voice as she took it from him. "It's just been crying for almost a half hour and it was annoying and-"

"Pretend she's a real baby," Freddie insisted, "Please. And don't crush it." He adjusted her hold on the doll again, moving her hand so it supported the head. "Did you try feeding her?"

"No really? I never thought of that," Sam said sarcastically, and Freddie knew he was treading dangerous waters. "I changed it and fed it and everything. Nothing's working! And," she pointed an accusing finger at him, "Stop giving the robo-baby a gender."

"Her name is Jeanette," Freddie growled.

"Robo-baby. And that's besides the point. I need to get it to shut up!" She balanced the doll in her arms, making a shushing sound instinctively as the crying only got louder.

Carly laughed as Freddie flailed his arms briefly, looking at a loss for what to do as well, "Umm, well . . ." He glanced over his shoulder at Carly, "Errr . . ."

"You could sing to it," Carly suggested. "Spencer used to sing to me when I was little. That's the only thing I can think of besides his tactic of crying back. Which I really doubt is going to work on a robot baby."

"Sing," Freddie hesitated, unable to remember if his mom had ever sung to him. Well, besides the song about big boys eating their vegetables. That didn't count. "I don't know any songs for babies."

"Me neither," Sam said as he looked at her, "I'm sure my mom just blasted music to drown us out if me or my sister cried."

Carly rolled her eyes. How would they ever get by without her, "It doesn't need to be a song for babies, guys. Any song." She sighed as they looked at her blankly, the baby still crying in Sam's arms. Freddie may be the calm one, but with Sam all riled up and the doll crying, he was starting to panic a little. "I saw you there, so beautiful," she started, waving at them to take a hint and continue.

"Um, ah . . ." Sam swallowed, "Y-you stopped and stared, so magical. Then you asked me for my name-" She elbowed Freddie in the ribs, making him sputter.

"Ow!" Another elbow to the side, "All right!" He shifted, searching for the lyrics and picking up where Sam had left off, "A-and we took an uptown train. Before you leave get up to go-"

"I wanna know," Sam continued, rocking the baby.

"Do you like Shakespeare? Jeff Buckley? Watching movies on a Sunday. Do you like-" Carly smiled to herself as they both sang the refrain together, the doll's crying growing softer and slowing down until it was disjointed hiccups and sobs. "-Kissin' when it's raining, making faces in the station do you like-"

"I need to know," Freddie took that part for himself, swaying to the sound of imaginary music. "What do you like-"

"-Before you go," Sam continued, growing silent as she noticed the doll had ceased crying all together. She grinned, "Whoa, we did it!" Freddie yelped as she punched him joyfully in the arm, "way to go Fredward!"

Rubbing his arm, Freddie muttered, "Was the abuse really necessary?"

"Yes."

Freddie sighed, knowing that he couldn't really complain, "Right then, you're good now? You don't need anymore help?"

The blond bit her lip, considering it as she placed the doll in the crib they'd pulled out of storage for it. "Well, I do have this giant problem of an unopened tub of chocolate ice-cream in the freezer downstairs . . ." She shrugged, "Even nubs should be rewarded once in awhile. Especially when saving robo-babies from death at the hands of mama."

Carly watched them race down the stairs with a pleased smile before she realized something. "Hey, wait . . . This is _my_ house. That means it's _my_ ice-cream! Guys!"

Spencer came home from one of his many trips to the dump (what? He was looking for things to use in his sculptures!) to find Carly sitting on the cough, small bowl of slowly melting chocolate ice-cream in her hands, and the two other teenagers who seemed to never be at their own houses sitting on the island in the kitchen. "Hello little sister who's strangely resigned and other children with their butts on my counter." Sam and Freddie looked up and waved, revealing faces covered in chocolate and a giant tub of ice-cream sitting on their legs.

"Hi Spencer," Carly muttered, glaring at her small bowl.

"Why so down kiddo?" her brother tossed today's finds, a bunch of wire hangers, onto the floor.

"They're being stingy with the ice-cream," Carly grumbled, picking at her pitiful amount with her spoon.

Spencer laughed, "I can go make them give you more if you'd like."

Carly huffed, "Go ahead and try it. Their being weird, and Sam will bite your head off for attempting to take food from her. I'm lucky I got this much." She popped the spoon into her mouth with a frown.

The older Shay looked up at the other two again, balanced on the island with their legs pulled up and their knees touching, spoons clinking together as they snarfed the ice-cream right from the container. Sam paused with her spoon in her mouth and reached in with a hand, whipping her fingers coated in chocolate to Freddie's nose and smearing the ice-cream across it with a smirk. Ah, so that explained why they were already covered in the stuff.

"You gonna clean that up?" Freddie teased, loud enough for the two onlookers to hear.

"You wish Benson," Sam said, rolling her eyes. But she swiped a finger over his nose again anyways and brought it to her mouth, narrowing her eyes as though daring him to say anything about it. Freddie laughed.

"She should lick it off," Spencer whispered mostly to himself.

"Ew! Too far too fast!" Carly hissed. "Now be quiet or they'll hear you!"

A cry came from upstairs and the room went silent for a moment before Sam groaned, "Again! Come on Daddio, time to take care of robo-baby," she grabbed him by the arm, jumping down from the counter and making her way towards the stairs, one iCarly tech producer in tow.

"It's a _girl_ and her name is Jeanette!" Freddie protested.

Spencer watched them go with an amused look, raising an eyebrow as what sounded like singing drifted down to him, both Freddie's and Sam's voices mixed together.

"Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere. Just a city boy, born and raised in south . . . Seattle! Took the midnight train going anywhere . . ."

"Don't ask," Carly chuckled. "Just don't ask."

"Wasn't planning on it," Spencer whispered. He shuffled over towards the abandoned container of ice-cream and lifted it above his head in silent victory before Carly could move from the couch, and dashing towards his room with it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Freddie took the doll again the next morning, and Sam couldn't help but feel irked that in his second twenty-four hour shift he didn't once need her help. She'd even been nice enough to stop by his apartment with a smoothie just to make sure she couldn't do anything. But apparently he had it covered.

She didn't like being the needy one for once. And plus, weren't girls supposed to be better with children anyways? What was with that? Sam couldn't understand why Freddie seemed so oddly calm around the stupid thing whereas she was always afraid she was doing something wrong, often confirmed with a round of scolding from her partner.

"_No no, you need to tilt the bottle more or it won't register."_

"_Wait, the baby can't sleep on it's stomach, that can lead to Sudden Infant Death."_

"_Don't bounce her too hard or you'll jar her neck."_

_"When you burp her you have to pat her gently,** gently**."_

He probably only knew so much about that kind of stuff because his own mother had babied him _way_ too long. So when it was her turn to take it for the night again, she told Freddie she could handle it all on her own.

If he could do it, surely she could to. She was Sam Puckette after all.

It was Spencer who knocked on Freddie's door somewhere around two in the morning, his head leaning against the wood so that he almost fell inside as Freddie pulled it open. Freddie stared at him blearily as he struggled to regain his balance, "Spence, what are you doing here at," he looked at his wrist for a long moment before he realized that no, he was not wearing a watch, "At . . . Whatever time it is. It's late, I mean early . . . I mean . . ."

"Carly said not to interfere," Spencer started, blinking at the teen with exhausted eyes, "And that Sam would have to suck it up and come to you herself, but I can't take it anymore! If the crying doesn't stop _I'm_ going to be the reason you guys are held back."

Freddie sighed, grabbing some slippers from the inside of the doorway and putting them on, "The baby's crying then?"

Spencer hesitated, "To an . . . Extent, I suppose."

"What does that mean?" Freddie followed him into the apartment across the hall with shuffling steps, dragging himself towards the stairs. He could hear the robotic baby crying already.

"Just go up there and do something about it. Quickly," Spencer muttered, wobbling down the hall and disappearing into his bedroom before Freddie could reply.

Shrugging, the dark haired teen trudged up the stairs and to the studio, pausing at the door for a confused moment. He could hear the almost unearthly sound of the baby's robotic crying, but mixed in were sniffles and hiccups that were much too human. Pushing it open, he stayed where he was as he viewed the scene.

Sam was pacing back and forth in front of the crib, the doll balanced in her arms as she rocked it. Her movements were shaky, and her hair framed her face enough that at first Freddie didn't catch the sight of a wet trail of tears running down her cheeks, but he did when she looked up at the sound of the door creaking open.

"N-no! Go away, I can do it myself!" She hiccupped, "I can be a good parent too!"

Slowly, Freddie inched towards her, putting his hands up in front of his chest in a surrender position, "Hey, hey. Put the baby down for a sec, okay?"

"But it's still crying and-"

"She'll be okay for a few minutes," Freddie promised softly, "But you on the other hand are getting worked up over nothing."

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, but did as she was told, placing the doll in the crib, "It's not 'nothing,'" she muttered, moving suddenly as if to punch him, but to her surprise, Freddie caught her wrist. He knew her too well. The blond hissed in frustration, swinging her other hand around but ending up in the same situation. Freddie couldn't help but smirk, fingers tight around her wrists as he held her at a safe distance. "It's not 'nothing,'" she repeated, glowering defiantly. "I'm the girl. I'm supposed to know how to do these things but I don't! And here you are, Mister Perfect Parent and all the thing does is cry when it's with me! It's not fair!"

"Hey-"

"No! Shut up, nub! I wanna be a good parent too! Just because I'm the bad girl doesn't mean I can't be a decent mom too . . . Right?" she turned tear filled blue eyes up to him and bit her lip, "Is . . . Is it cause my mom was a sucky role model? Is that why I can't be a good mom either?"

Freddie closed his eyes and sighed, using his grip on her wrists to tug her forward and wrap his arms around her shoulders. "Don't be stupid," he whispered, "You're not a bad mom."

"Yes I am!" Sam all but wailed, almost drowning out the doll's crying. "It won't stop crying even if I sing to it!" She tangled her fingers into his pajama shirt and sobbed.

"Okay, okay," Freddie freed one arm and motioned towards the crib, "Pick her up."

"No. I-"

"Just do it," he insisted, releasing her fully and waiting as she scooped it up into her arms once more. "Sometimes babies cry and there's really nothing you can do except hold it and try not to get too frustrated."

"Too late for that," Sam muttered.

Freddie laughed softly, "Yeah. But eventually, she should tire herself out and fall asleep. So waiting is really the only thing we can do."

"Do robo-babies even _get_ tired?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow and earning another chuckle.

"Yes," Freddie smiled, wandering across the room to grab one of the large beanbag chairs, pulling it to the middle of the floor and plopping down on it, "Now sit, before you start to freak out again."

Sam frowned, "I was not freaking out," she protested, motioning for him to scootch over a bit before squishing into the beanbag beside him. "I was totally calm."

"Of course you were," Freddie murmured. He reached for the doll, taking it from her and folding a blanket around it, swaddling it tight and placing it between them, balanced against their sides as he reclined back. "What songs did you try singing?"

The blond bit her lip again, thinking about it as she snuggled into the beanbag, draping one arm protectively over the doll, "Ummm . . . Some Ke$ha and Lady Gaga mostly."

Freddie rolled his eyes, "Well of course it didn't work then. Think of a softer song, no baby wants to listen to that kind of stuff."

"Lady Gaga is amazing," Sam muttered.

The other ignored the comment, "Think of something _softer_, more soothing."

Sam glared at him for a long moment, "I've never been the kind that you'd call lucky, always stumbling around in circles . . . B-but I must have stumbled into something, look at me am I really alone with you."

"I wake up feeling like my life's worth living," Freddie whisper-sang the words, picking up the next verse, "Can't recall when I last felt that way. I guess it must be all this love you're givin'. Never knew-"

"Never knew," Sam echoed quietly.

"It could be like this," they hummed together. "But I guess some hearts they just get on the right race. Some hearts have the stars on their side. Some hearts they just have it so easy. Some hearts just get lucky sometimes. Some hearts just get lucky, lucky sometimes . . ."

"It's not working," Sam sing-songed, still going with the beat of the imaginary music. The doll continued to cry pitifully between them.

"Well at least we tried," Freddie sighed.

It was a good fifteen minutes later when the doll finally lapsed into silence, it's fake robotic breathing telling them it had gone into sleep mode. "Thank freaking finally," Sam huffed, rolling over onto her side so that she faced Freddie fully, "I thought it would never shut up."

"You and me both," Freddie grinned, glancing down at the thing between them for a moment before looking up again, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that their foreheads were touching, inevitable in their cramped positions on a single large beanbag. At the same time though, he also recognized that for some reason, he didn't really care. "Sam," he whispered suddenly, crossing an arm over the doll as well so that their hands almost touched somewhere in the middle, "You're not a bad mom."

"Thanks," the blond replied, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"I mean it," Freddie murmured, "I really do. Everyone panics once in awhile, especially over things like this. That doesn't make you a bad mom. In fact, if you're worried you're doing it wrong, that only means you're concerned you're not doing it right. That just shows that you _care_."

Sam smiled, "That's a very nice way to put it, Freddalupe, but that doesn't mean it's true."

Freddie shook his head, reveling in the silence that stretched between them, as calm as the mingling of their breath. "I know it's true," he said finally.

But Sam was already asleep, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling evenly. Freddie couldn't help but snicker softly to himself before closing his own eyes.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Carly had always been an observer. She'd observed for the past three years the slow shift from enemies to friends between her two closest acquaintances, watching as they toed hesitantly at the boundaries of something else from then on. For a brief point in time she had ignored that final step, refusing to believe the possibility of it existed to satisfy her own loneliness at the thought of being a third wheel. She wasn't sure exactly when she realized that no matter what happened, things wouldn't really change as she'd once thought they would.

Carly Shay would never be a third wheel to them. She should have known that all along.

Although, being a third wheel might have been better at times than being the frustrated onlooker to a pair who was too stupid to recognize what was right under their noses; watching the actions they went through almost subconsciously at times, too pig headed to look beyond the game they'd been playing since sixth grade.

Currently they were lounging in the iCarly studio. Carly was perched on the hood of car, a notepad on her knees as she jotted down ideas Sam and Freddie called out to her. The idiot duo in question was stretched out on the rug in the middle of the floor, Freddie lying on his back with the robotic baby on his chest, Sam forming a right angle with her hands on his stomach, her chin resting on her knuckles. "What about a bit where we try and draw a picture on a big ol' easel while blind folded?"

Carly tapped her pen to her chin, "That could be pretty funny, but it depends on what we're attempting to draw."

"A ham," Sam practically drooled.

"You could draw a ham with your eyes closed any day," Carly pointed out reasonably.

Sam considered this piece of logic a moment, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Oh! We could draw Freddie! Drawing him with my eyes closed would be a real improvement on his face."

Freddie snorted, "Rude." Sam chuckled against his stomach. "And I don't think a drawing bit is the best idea. I mean, with a blindfold Carly's drawings will only look worse, and even more unrecognizable."

"Oops, excuse me, then that would be an _extreme _improvement on your face," Sam corrected.

"Hey! I took art lessons!" Carly protested, "I got better!"

"If you say sooooo . . ." Sam sang. "But if we can't go with that idea, what about another Messing With Lewbert? I bought this fart box the other-"

"What the chiz is a 'fart box?'" Freddie asked before Carly could stop him.

"A little electronic box that makes fart noises when I press the button on the remote. Duh," Sam said, tone stating that this fact should be common knowledge. "But as I was saying," she drummed her fingers against Freddie's stomach lazily, smirking as he huffed softly with laughter, "we could tape it under his chair behind the front desk and press the button every time someone tried to talk to him."

Carly pursed her lips thoughtfully, "That could work. I mean, it did take him forever to figure out the dog poop was fake that one time, so we might be able to get a couple really good shots before he notices what's going on. And besides, we haven't done Messing With Lewbert in awhile."

"That's because none of us wanted to after Spencer's whole prank happy month from hell," Freddie said logically, "It just brought back annoying bad memories." On his chest, the doll made a noise and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, curling an arm around it, "Bottle."

Sam rolled over, grabbing the plastic bottle from the small bag of supplies a few feet away before sitting up and handing it to him, "Bottle," she echoed.

Carly twirled her pen around between her fingers, amused, "You guys have gotten good at that, it barely had time to start crying."

"Mama knows how to take care of babies," Sam grinned triumphantly, casting a glare at Freddie as he snickered at the remark. "What's that for Benson?"

"Nothing," Freddie smiled, "Come here and take her, I did this last time."

The blond rolled her eyes but complied, moving closer until their legs tangled together and she could take the doll from Freddie's arms. Carly watched as he adjusted her hold as he had been doing the entire week, his hand moving to Sam's shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. That was new, Carly thought briefly before standing up, "Right then, I'm going to go get some snacks."

"Frozen pizza!" Sam called after her, looking up.

"Fruit pops!" Freddie suggested.

Carly shook her head, inching out the door and standing just beyond it, viewing the scene through the glass. She nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand suddenly rested on her shoulder.

"Oh the oblivious duo," Spencer crooned, gesturing towards the closed door, "Watch them in their natural habitat. Their courtship ritual consists of insults and manhandling. Now view the introduction of the catalyst," he pointed at the doll, barely visible between the two as they fed it, their foreheads almost touching. "The chemical reaction is unknowingly increased tenfold. It's only a matter of time before the idiot duo moves on to the final step of their courtship."

"Thank you nature show narrator," Carly chuckled. "But what's the 'final step?'"

Spencer rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, "Actual courtship."

"No chiz," Carly laughed.

Beyond the glass Freddie couldn't help but smile as the doll burped, signaling it was done feeding from the equally fake bottle. "See, no crying," he whispered.

"Yeah," the blond replied softly, "But that might be just because you're here ya' know."

Freddie chuckled and shook his head, "No way. It's all you this time, I swear." Sam remained silent, and Freddie moved his hand from her shoulder to back of her head, forcing her to look at him, "Hey, I mean it."

"You're just being nice," Sam muttered defiantly, but she smiled anyways. "Now, either stop touching me or do something," she commanded.

"Do something?" the dark haired teen echoed, raising an eyebrow. His fingers twitched against the back of her head, twining into her curls.

"Something," Sam repeated. "Or back off so I can punch you properly. Your choice Fredward." She frowned, daring him to move first.

Swallowing, Freddie started to pull his hand back, but thought better of it after a split second's decision, closing the distance between them with a determined swiftness.

The kiss was brief, a hesitant butterfly brush of the lips that was interrupted as a loud, "WOOHOO" came from beyond the door. Sam was instantly on her feet, passing the baby to Freddie with a bright red face before she made a beeline for the glass, catching sight of Spencer and Carly madly dashing down the stairs. "Yeah, you'd better run!" she yelled, opening and following close behind.

Freddie stayed where he was on the floor, arms now full of a robotic baby as he sat there in semi shock. After a moment he laughed. And laughed and laughed, listening to the Shay sibling's terrified shrieks as Sam chased them around below.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"You sad to see it go?" Carly asked as they left the Teen choices classroom, her friends' hands free of the robotic baby for the first time in a week.

Sam made a face, "What? Chiz no, why would we be? That thing was psychotic."

"It was just a doll," Freddie said, rolling his eyes as though the notion of missing it was ridiculous.

"But you gave it a name," Carly pointed out.

"Lotsa people did, it made the project seem less stupid," he protested.

"And besides, that thing hated me," Sam put in. "Which is why I don't miss it. At all."

Carly couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head, "Sure. Whatever you say." She shrugged, "Anyways, are you guys going to a movie or something today?" Hint hint.

Freddie blinked, "Uh, no. Why? Did you wanna go see a movie?"

"We can go see a movie if you want to Carls," Sam added. "What did you want to see?"

The dark haired girl raised an eyebrow, "No, I meant . . . Wouldn't you two want to go see a movie? Just to the two of you?"

"No," Freddie deadpanned.

"Gross," Sam gagged.

"But I thought . . ." Carly started, earning her confused looks from the both of them. "Oh . . . Never mind. I'm sorry I live in a delusion bubble where I thought for one moment you guys had finally figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Freddie asked, glancing at Sam, uncomprehending.

"Ignore her, she's ranting again," Sam stage whispered. She grabbed his arm and steered him away, "Just keep walking and she'll follow once she's done being weird."

Carly watched them begin to walk away with a frustrated sigh, fisting her hands in her hair and resisting the urge to kick the wall. Maybe she really should just lock them in a room together.

"By the way, there's no way I'm letting you name a kid Jeanette for real," Sam said sternly as they walked.

"What? Why not? I think it's a pretty name!" Freddie whined, earning a pinch to the arm the blond was currently holding on to. "Ouch! Cut that out!"

"No. And because I said so, that's why. What mama says goes," Sam pinched his arm again just to prove her point, and smirked broadly as he hissed. "And besides, I want a boy first."

"Oh I know the perfect name for a- ow!" Freddie rubbed at his quickly bruising arm.

"Nathan for a boy," Sam said, "You get no opinions."

"Why not? And for a girl we're going to name her Jeanette, if you get to pick 'Nathan,' then I get to pick Jeanette!"

"And so, the bickering sidekicks remain stasis in their relationship," Carly began to mutter to herself. "However, they unconsciously have begun discussing names for their future children. There is hope yet."

Sam made an offended sound up ahead, almost out of Carly's earshot now, "Don't say it like that! What's wrong with the name Nathan?"

"I don't know, I just think it's a weird name!"

"Oh yeah, well Jeanette is a weird name too!"

Carly rolled her eyes and began to hurry after them, "Hey, wait up!"

_If we listen to each others hearts_

_We'll find we're never too far apart._

_And maybe love is the reason why_

_For the first time we're seeing it eye to eye._

**RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE**

Oh mah gawd, Kari wrote straight fan fiction again? The world is ending! Run for the hills!

Naw, you're good. Does the lack of updates continue on all other fic fronts? Yes. I'm sorry, have massive writers block. So I started with something as happy and non-angsty as possible. AKA, iCarly.

*hides face in shame* I'm sorry, I love it, I really do! It's the happy to balance out Supernatural's angst-fest on TV for me. And with iStart A Fanwar coming up, this was kinda my last chance to write something for it before the scale tilted one way or the other on the Seddie vs. Creddie battlefield. And god knows if for some blasphemous reason Dan writes it ending as Creddie, I'll die in a corner for a few months. And I was board on the car ride back to the dorm. Soooo . . .

SAM n' FREDDIE FTW! Arrghhh . . . November is sooooo far away. ;_; I'm never gonna make it.

Anywho, in this fic I really wanted to make sure Carly was not the third wheel, and that Sam kept being mean to Freddie even as they got closer. That's just how they are after all. Which is why I ended it with them still stuck in their game of denial, despite the little kiss. Carly not being the third wheel has to do with the main issue I have with Creddie, cause if Carly and Freddie were together, Sam WOULD be the third wheel, no matter what. But I don't think it'd be like that if it was Seddie. Ever. Oh yeah, and this fic is named after the song Eye to Eye from . . . The Goofy Movie. *runs*

Kay, I'm going to go do actual meaningful writing now and finish the new Crossing The Inferno chapter. *skips off*


End file.
